It’s amusing to think that while I was grouchily sliding around Southwater Country Park in Sussex, willing the sports watch to reach that magic 21-mile invitation to Just Stop Running, Jasmin Paris was making history.
Ms Paris, an ultrarunner of some repute, became the first woman ever to finish the Barkley Marathons (this is a gnarly, 100-mile vertical race that involves some quite weird rules and most competitors, if they’re allowed to enter, don’t finish). Jasmin Paris did it, the footage of her running to collapsing point at the finish is heartbreaking. She’s now on a gruelling treadmill of media interviews; the mainstream press having realised that something special has been achieved owing to the sports media practically frothing at the mouth.
Also, while I was moodily eating an overripe banana and looking up my inevitably disappointing result email from Horsham parkrun, my club mate Clare Elms was once again picking up golds in an internationally athletic way. As Athletics Weekly puts it
‘Clare Elms led the way for Great Britiain at the recent Euro Masters Indoor Champs in Torun. She won an incredible five gold medals over the 800m, 1500m, 3000m, and cleaned individual and team XC medals.’
Still, I did my parkrun in the mud, having risen at six to make it to the startline. I then had to run further 18 miles around the Sussex countryside in order to make up the mileage (I suspected that I would not do them the following morning after the evening’s celebrations, and I was right).
This parkrun has been in my sights for a while, since meeting another goddess at a German Society event in Horsham (you should try them. Wild). She is the beautiful Louise Dumas, who was introduced to me as a fellow mature runner. She was marshalling at parkrun on Saturday, as she had a 10k race the following day. She’s also fascinating to me because she’s relatively newly married, and I was in Sussex for my 65-year-old-sister’s hen weekend. Louise had been widowed but met her current husband in her seventies. I love this. Not that there’s anything wrong with having just the one husband for decades and decades…will stop now.
On to the Park House Hotel, Midhurst, where I and eleven other goddess-like women (the youngest was in her thirties, the eldest is seventy next year), lived like queens for 24 hours or so: eating, drinking a lot of Champagne, making full use of pool, sauna, steam room and fluffy dressing gowns.
It was a bit of a blow out, and my system took another 24-hours to recover from the alcohol onslaught. In fact I felt so rough on Sunday I have vowed not to touch another drop of alcohol until 1pm on 21 April (London Marathon Day).
The running week in full:
Tuesday 19 March: track, 2×800, 8x300m, with a couple of miles easy running either side
Wednesday 20 March: recovery run of six miles
Thursday: no running, as felt some tightness in the knee and was worried about Saturday’s demands
Friday: rest n pilates
Saturday: Horsham parkrun (25:50, but very slow starting to small paths), followed by 18 miles of Sussex beauty, the Downslink and the muddy country park).
Sunday: hangover recovery
Monday: recovery and Bikram yoga
Marathon Gran 